


Made To Love

by tealeaf523 (ConstantComment)



Series: Made For It [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anniversary, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/tealeaf523
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terry Boot was familiar with many aches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made To Love

-x-

Terry Boot was familiar with many aches. There were bad aches: growing pains, indigestion, migraines, bruises, heartache. Heartache was one he was most recently familiar with. But there were also good aches: the fatigue he felt at the end of a long run around the neighbourhood during the summers, the exhaustion after a long class-day when he could finally, slowly, sink into the soft down of his bed relaxing, relaxing, relaxing until he fell into a deep sleep.

And then, there were the times when he was with Anthony, which included some of the best aches Terry had ever experienced.

Today marked the first day of the last month of school. Today also marked the end of his and Anthony’s first month as boyfriends. In fact, Terry was more careful about throwing that word around than Anthony nowadays—although he’d never admit that he kind of liked the term ‘lovers’ over any other synonym. The two had returned to school after the small break in April having hashed and rehashed anything and everything to do with their relationship. And, Terry thought they had most everything figured out, which made things so much easier, since they were both to sit exams at the end of May.

Number one: they were in love

Number two: neither was to interfere with the other’s study time

Number three: agreement from both parties that the relationship would not be ‘consummated’ until after O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were over

Number four: they were _in love!_

Number five: Terry really liked to dwell on the fact that they were very much in love – was this mentioned before?

So, in summation, Terry was a happy son of a witch, and Anthony never failed to tell him so.

“You’re a happy son of a witch, aren’t you?” Anthony murmured in Terry’s ear as they lounged in the Head Boy’s bed the morning of their anniversary, which just so happened to be a dreary Sunday that invited indoor activities instead of those less interesting ones… ones that involved being vertical.

“Mmm,” Terry hummed, squirming when Anthony nipped at the same ear and snuggled close, blankets rising and falling agitatedly like tremendous waves during a maelstrom.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Thinking about how I should stay away from similes and metaphorical phrases if I want to get anywhere in life,” he answered, patting down a lump of foldy bedding and glancing at Anthony, who looked open but confused. Terry lightly scratched at Anthony’s stomach with his fingernails, causing his abdomen to contract with the ticklish sensation. Anthony sucked in a breath of air.

“What? Does this mean no more love songs, then?”

Terry grimaced, feeling his cheeks heat up. “You promised not to make fun.”

Anthony pulled him closer with his arm, which, if it hadn’t been under Terry’s shoulders, would have been holding displaced air close instead of a sulking Teddy. “I love you,” Anthony said after a moment, smiling into Terry’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah,” Terry grumbled, goose pimples marching down his neck. Anthony ghosted his fingers over the flesh just—just—above Terry’s briefs, under a hipbone. Swiped his fingers along that line until his knuckles curled and his fingernails grazed the next hipbone, circling there when Terry squirmed, the backs of his thighs brushing against Anthony’s half-hard cock.

“You like that?” Anthony asked, pressing his cock against the cleft of Terry’s arse when his own hips gave an involuntary twitch.

“You’re bloody impossible,” Terry gasped.

Anthony pulled Terry swiftly toward him, biting down on his neck and laving at the pink marks his teeth left behind. Terry made some probably ridiculous noise in the back of his throat at the pleasure-pain, his own cock hardening between one breath and the next.

“And _you_ , my little Ravenclaw,—“ Anthony slid his hand under Terry’s waistband and rubbed at the underside of Terry’s awakened prick with the pad of one finger. “—are insatiable.”

Terry whined.

“I’m surprised it took this long, actually,” Anthony said with a hint of wonder.

Terry pushed back at his boyfriend, insinuating the tip of the older boy’s stiffening cock between his cotton-clad arse cheeks, rolling his hips until Anthony choked on a gasp.

“I wasn’t just talking about _you_ , wanker!”

“I _hope_ you’re not going to leave me to do all the work by myself!” Terry cried, flipping over and flopping a leg over Anthony’s waist. He grabbed at Anthony’s surprised face and licked into his mouth, probably a little overenthusiastic, but Anthony moaned and wrapped both arms around his ribs like Terry would run off at any second.

They kissed, whimpering and gasping with astonished arousal like they were discovering their cocks all over again, and Terry delighted in the breathy sounds Anthony made when Terry ventured down his boyfriend’s back and squeezed at his arse. He fisted Anthony’s boxers in a hand and pulled them taut, pulled Anthony closer with the tight cling of fabric, which inspired an even better noise. Anthony sounded like he was either hurting or feeling on top of the world with the sounds he was making. When Terry thought about it he supposed it was sort of both of those things at once.

Terry smiled and giggled when Anthony chased after his mouth, hungry, frowning.

Anthony gave up after a moment and buried the side of his face in a pillow, panting a little. Terry leaned back in and bumped Anthony’s nose with his when he’d caught his breath.

“Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Anthony said finally.

“Er, what?”

“Sorry,” Anthony said. He bit his lip. “Wanking. That is, you wanking for me. I’ve never seen you do it.”

“Psh. We get each other off all the time!” Terry laughed. “Or had you forgotten?”

Anthony blushed. “No, I mean. You wanking… like I’m not here. Or—like you want me to be here but I’m not. I’m far away but you’re missing me and you want me to be with you and you can’t keep your hands off your dick thinking about me.”

Terry’s breath had stolen away somewhere. Likely it had run off with Anthony’s senses. “What?”

Anthony blushed and scuttled away under the blankets, running a hand through his hair and looking everywhere but at Terry. “Sorry, it’s stupid. Never mind. Forget I said anythi—”

“You want me to do that for you?” Terry asked quietly.

Anthony grimaced. “No, no, it’s—really, don’t worry about it.”

Terry grabbed at Anthony’s shoulder. “Shut up for a moment, will you? I’m not _worrying about it_.”

Anthony looked back at Terry, chastened.

“I’m just thinking about logistics,” Terry said finally.

Anthony’s answering laughter was like sunshine. Terry tamped down that particular thought in order to get to the bottom of this… wanking business. No need to get distracted from the distraction, right?

“So, you’re considering it?”

Terry frowned. “May I ask why?”

“Why… why I want you to…?”

“Jesus, Anthony, I’m the blushing virgin here. Stop being a twat.”

“Because I think about you all the time. Especially when I’m here in bed and you’re all the way in Ravenclaw Tower and we haven’t seen each other in three days and I can’t keep my hands off my—” Anthony sucked in a breath. “I want to see you. I want to see that you want me that much, too.”

Terry leaned over and pressed a swift kiss to Anthony’s lips. “I love you,” Terry said.

Anthony smiled slightly.

“And you love me, right?”

Anthony nodded, frowning.

“And you like my lips, yeah? And you’re always a bit preoccupied with my dick whenever it’s out.”

“Yeah,” Anthony gusted out.

Terry leaned in again so his lips would touch Anthony’s ear ever so lightly. “D’you think about my dick a lot?” Terry asked. “When you’re alone—“

“Terr…”

Terry climbed out from under the covers and pulled the duvet away from Anthony’s body. Terry committed what he saw to memory, then. ‘Cause Anthony was so gorgeous he just couldn’t—

“Fucking shit, I’m gonna do this.”

Anthony twitched a little, startling out of his daze. “What?” he mumbled confusedly. His light green boxers twitched, too, though, when he realized just what Terry was thinking about—just what madness he was going to commit this time.

Terry scuttled to the end of the bed, leaning back on one of his hands and taking a big breath before pushing his fingers under his briefs. He palmed his cock nervously, feeling it grow harder and harder in his palm as he thought about Anthony wanking to thoughts of him. He closed his eyes tight when Anthony let out a little moan, trying not to focus on the fact that he was being watched. That they were about to engage in a bit of voyeurism-exhibitionism weirdness. Or whatever.

Terry took another big breath, letting it out in a gust of air that had his shoulders relaxing and his palm getting back to business in a comfortable grip around his prick.

He thought about the first time Anthony had approached him—had taken advantage of him—in the girls’ dormitory over Christmas hols. How he’d made Anthony come and how he’d felt so powerful doing it, like he’d pulled the orgasm out of Anthony with his own talent. He thought about Anthony’s fingers, sure and rough on his prick when he’d been so desperate to come. He thought about Anthony’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Terry moaned. He pulled his cock out, waistband of his briefs hugging his bollocks snugly, and squeezed the precome out of the top of his cock with one long, hard pull.

Anthony’s mouth was heavenly, Terry knew. He sometimes thought he knew it by heart, but then Anthony’d do this thing with his tongue or his throat or his lips and Terry’d be coming for ages and shaking like a leaf.

Terry began stroking in earnest, now. But he knew, like every time he wanked nowadays—now that Anthony was his and sometimes still so far away—that he was missing something.

It must’ve shown on his face, because Anthony answered with a mewl of lusty dissatisfaction, making Terry’s bollocks tighten a little. He squeezed the base of his cock quickly, and staunchly ignored the sounds of slapping skin from across the bed.

“Shut up, Anthony! I’m trying to imagine you’re not here!”

“What—wait,” Anthony moaned, voice a little sad.

“God—oh, God…” Terry’s head fell back, and he felt the sweat in the hair at his temples, pooling just above his clavicles, and dripping sleepily from the creases of his knees. He tightened his grasp and tugged faster. “I’m getting close,” he mumbled.

Anthony moaned again.

Terry looked down at his cock, angry and red as it slipped through his fist in a blur. His own precome slicked the way, but Terry couldn’t help—honestly, why would he help?—but think about how much better it would be if Anthony’s lips were stretched around his cock and his velvety hot mouth were swallowing him down. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Terry.”

Terry’s gaze snapped to Anthony, who was sitting up and jerking his prick quickly, eyes hooded and face crumpled in a moue of want.

Terry let go of his cock, even though he wanted to come so fucking badly, and crawled to the other end of the bed. He scrambled over Anthony’s juddering hips and shoved his shoulders into the pillows.

“Agh!” Anthony yelped, hands grabbing Terry’s waist reflexively.

“You’re not allowed to look like that!” Terry growled.

Anthony gasped as Terry straddled his legs and rutted up against him. He found Anthony’s mouth very easily with his eyes closed, especially since Anthony was moaning obscenely and pathetically below him.

“Fuck, oh—Terr, I—“

“Love you,” Terry said finally, pulling at Anthony’s thigh and pulling it over his hip.

“Agh!” Anthony yelped again, yet this time it was more pleasure than surprise that flitted across his face. Maybe surprised pleasure.

“Like that?” Terry’d never imagined himself to be the one to take control, but he was kind of manhandling his boyfriend into a position that suited him best—and Anthony was loving it.

“Yeah, fuck!”

Their skin was slick with and hot with sweat, but Anthony made it slicker when he came seconds later, just as Terry’d grabbed his other thigh, fingers ghosting over the cleft of his arse.

“Fuck me,” he moaned deliriously, weakly, into Terry’s neck.

Startled, Terry followed him quickly, the slippery mess between them so perfect it hurt.

“I love you,” Terry whispered into Anthony’s hair, confused and still rutting in little spurts against Anthony’s sensitive, spent prick.

It took a while for either of them to say—or think—anything, and in the silence Terry rolled off of Anthony and stared at his boyfriend while he steadied his breathing, looking more blissed out than Terry’d ever seen him. He looked high with it.

“Which part was it?” Terry asked quietly, when Anthony finally turned his head to Terry and gave him a smile as unsure as it was happy.

“S’that?”

“Which part… of what just happened. What made you—”

Anthony shrugged, but Terry knew that they _both_ knew what was being said. Asked.

“You know I’m not a virgin, yeah?” Anthony began, supposedly trying to answer.

Terry turned more fully to him and twined his fingers in Anthony’s. “Yes.”

“D’you wanna know who I lost it to?”

“Is it someone I know? Someone who still goes here?”

Anthony shook his head. “No, no.” He looked down at their entwined fingers. “He worked in the office I was the coffee runner for, two summers ago.”

“Muggle?”

“No. He was 25 and had gone to a school of wizardry in Switzerland. English. Pureblood. Gorgeous as hell and the worst person to lose your virginity to.”

Terry’s heart clenched. “Why?”

“Ah, he was a massive prick. But, that’s not the point.”

“Well, what is, then? You’re not making me feel too great—post-coital haze can only do so much.”

“He taught me a lot about what I liked, though,” Anthony continued as if Terry hadn’t spoken.

“So…?”

“Imagine a 25-year-old taking a 15-year-old’s virginity. You can probably guess who was the bottom.”

Terry frowned. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” Anthony said.

Terry shuffled closer and propped his chin on Anthony’s shoulder. “I know I’m a Ravenclaw, but I still feel like I’m missing something.”

Anthony flicked Terry’s forehead with his other head.

“Hey!”

Anthony smiled. “Well, the point wasn’t to have a little heart-to-heart. And not to freak you out, either. I’ve topped other blokes.”

“Okay.”

“I just… I really like bottoming. I suppose.”

Terry sat up. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“What?”

“So what if you like bottoming?”

“Well—”

“You could’ve told me—it’s not like bottoming is some sort of _emasculating_ experience.” Terry let go of Anthony’s hand, watching his boyfriend’s reaction. “Unless you think it _is_ an emasculating experience.”

Anthony sat up, too.

“And you assumed that I’d be the bottom in this relationship, with that attitude? Well, fuck you!”

Anthony scrambled out of bed when Terry rolled from it and grabbed his wand. He gritted out an angry cleaning charm before shoving into his jeans and searching for his t-shirt and socks and trainers scattered about the room somewhere.

“Where are you going?” Anthony asked, a little frantically.

“To revise. I need to go over my Herbology reading. I’ve only read it once.”

“No, wait—Terr,” Anthony pulled at Terry’s fingers when he managed to catch him. “Christ, this is _not_ how I meant things to play out.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Terry snarked. He Summoned his trainers and they landed with a flop at his feet as he waited for Anthony to explain himself.

“I was just trying to explain… I’m sorry. I just wanted to answer your question thoroughly.”

Terry huffed.

“You know, answer it the best I could.”

“Ravenclaw,” Terry said.

Anthony smiled self-deprecatingly. “Okay. In the past, my experiences as a bottom have been somewhat emasculating, to be honest. Especially with Nathan.”

Terry scowled at the mention—by name—of the man who’d taken Anthony’s virginity.

“But with you, I did… sort of assume that you’d be the bottom. But not because I’d rather _shove_ that role onto you! I want your experience with me to be a good one. Whatever you choose to do, I want you to feel good and special and—”

Terry smiled. “You’re such a girl.”

“Talk about emasculation!”

“You deserve it.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do,” Anthony said, looking repentant and… a bit gorgeous and vulnerable in just his boxers as he stood in front of Terry, who was now fully dressed save for his shoes. “I just… I started all of this with a bit of a ‘Nathan mentality’… but I liked you. I liked you so much and I tried—am trying—to treat you as you should be treated. Like my boyfriend. Like someone I’m in love with.”

“Not like a twink in ladies’ knickers?”

“No,” Anthony laughed. “Although you totally looked like one. And that _blue mascara_!”

“You liked it.”

“I did.”

Terry allowed himself to be pulled into a hug, pressing his nose into Anthony’s neck as strong arms wrapped around him.

“Come back to bed? We don’t have to do anything, I just don’t want to spend today without you.”

Terry pulled off his jeans promptly and climbed under the covers. When Anthony tried to spoon behind him, Terry elbowed him lightly and shoved him over, spooning up behind _Anthony’s_ back and biting his ear.

“Ouch!”

“So,” Terry said, ignoring Anthony’s whining. “In summation, would you say that you really liked when I took control?”

Anthony stopped whining immediately. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“What an interesting development. We shall have to test out this theory with extensive empirical research.”

“Yeah,” Anthony agreed, quieter than before.

Terry smiled.

“I have to say that I’m glad O.W.Ls are sooner rather than later.”

Anthony turned his head and waiting for further explanation.

“Because I don’t want to wait that long to lose my virginity.”

Anthony snickered. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t look forward to it.”

Anthony pulled Terry’s arm over to rest against the planes of his stomach.

“Especially since it sounds like _you’re_ bottoming!”

Anthony did not protest, so Terry just chuckled into the curls at the nape of Anthony’s neck and savoured the moment. This was looking like a good anniversary, as far as firsts went. And the only ache Terry felt now was the deep-seated burn of affection as he closed his eyes.

-x-


End file.
